


Songs of Innocence and Experience

by Morse_s Child (sherlockstummy)



Category: Inspector Morse (TV)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Gen, morse is a good dad, robbie is an adorable baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 03:45:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4004587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockstummy/pseuds/Morse_s%20Child
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to a chemical explosion, Lewis is de-aged and will allow no one's care but Morse's. Will Morse survive this case, or will tending to a child overwhelm him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Where is he?” Morse demanded.

“Sir, I don’t…” The constable that was currently being eaten alive by Morse tried to look away nervously.

“ _Where. Is. He_?” Morse growled, a definite note of danger and urgency in his voice.

“Uh…down this way, Sir.” The constable turned and walked off towards the holding cells. Morse followed.

“He’s in here, Sir.” The constable opened up the viewing flap and Morse looked inside. There was a small body curled up on the poor excuse for a bed whose greatly softened features and rich dark brown hair Morse recognized. 

The inspector snarled and stalked away.

“Sir!” The constable trotted after him. “Superintendent Strange wants to see you, Sir.”

“Good, because I want to see him, too.”

________________________________________________

“Why keep him there? What if he has no memory, no consciousness? What _child_ would feel comfortable waking in a _cell_?” Morse roared, gesticulating wildly.

Strange hastily closed the door to keep the storm inside and under control. “Listen, Morse, I know you’re concerned…”

“You better bloody well believe I’m _concerned_ ,” Morse sneered. “My _sergeant_ has been greatly reduced in age _and_ size!” He clenched his fists. “I want to know what’s being done about him, and I want to know _now_.”

“We’re still going over the chemical explosion. I’ve got Farnley out investigating it now.”

Morse growled. “Farnley couldn’t investigate the contents of his own nose.”

“Well, you’re too close to it to investigate it yourself, matey. You’d better be focused on caring for Lewis.”

Morse almost protested, but he did know it was his responsibility. “Well…all right. Keep me posted. What do you want to do about Mrs. Lewis and the children?”

“I don’t want to worry her unnecessarily.” Strange said wearily. “You said they were out of town?”

“Yes—visiting her mother, I believe. Lewis would’ve gone, but the case kept him here.” Morse’s stomach churned at the thought that if Lewis had gone, this wouldn’t have happened. And if he’d just bloody been there…

“This is no time to get into a snit, matey.” Strange warned him. “Go on and see if he’s woken up yet. Familiar face might do him a bit of good.”

When Morse got back to the holding cells, the sound of crying and presence of several WPCs alerted him. He strong-armed his way through gawkers until he could get into the room.

Lewis, now a child due to some chemical explosion Morse couldn’t very well explain or put a name to, was crying. Something came to Morse’s mind, something Lewis had said about crying children and a parent’s reaction. “Forces you to do something,” that was it. And every maternal presence was forced into doing it.

“Where’s me mum and da?” Lewis was saying through his sobs. “I want me mum and da!”

Morse was unsurprised to hear clearer tones of Lewis’ Geordie in the child’s voice. He silently shooed everyone from the scene, told one of the WPCs to stay, and knelt with some difficulty before the child. “Robbie, do you know who I am?”

With less fuss around and a gentle and what should be familiar voice now present, Robbie’s sobs abated and the child scrubbed at his eyes with a tiny fist. He looked at Morse, gray eyes bright from crying, and shook his head.

“My name is Morse,” Morse said patiently, smiling. “I’m a police officer.”

“Where’s me mum and da?” Robbie asked. “Why did they leave me? I want them…what did I…?” 

Morse could see the child about to cry again, so he stretched out a hand to rest on Robbie’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Robbie. We’re going to look for them.” Sweet white lies never hurt a child, right? “I bet you’re hungry. Would you like to come with me? I can get you something to eat.”

Robbie nodded, placated for now. Morse stood up carefully, aware that Robbie was watching him, and the little boy got off the bed. The inspector estimated that Robbie was about six or seven years of age, shy and wary of strangers, but receptive to kindness. That’s good; no signs that might indicate he had been abused as a child.

Morse told the WPC to bring a sandwich and something suitable for the boy to drink to his office. He noticed the child looking around in poorly-subdued wonder; at least Robbie’s honest face had not changed much over time.

“Come on, Robbie,” Morse said kindly. 

“Where are we goin, Mr. Morse?”

“We’re going to my office, and you can just call me ‘Morse’ if you like.”

“Morse.” Robbie tested it on his tongue, keeping pace easily with the older man. “Rhymes with ‘horse’.”

“Yes, it does.”

Robbie giggled. 

“Do you know what your last name is?”

“Lewis!” Robbie replied excitedly. “I’m Robbie Lewis!”

“Yes, you are.”

“What’s your _real_ name?” Robbie asked as they got to Morse’s office.

Morse shook his head. “I’m just Morse.”

“That isn’t a _proper_ name!” Robbie insisted.

Morse chuckled. “Maybe one day, if you can keep a secret, I’ll tell you.”

Robbie looked excited, bouncing in place as Morse sat down in his chair. “I’m good at secrets! Tell me _pleeeaaassseee_?”

Luckily, however, Morse was saved by the WPC bringing in food. The inspector sighed, leaning on his hands as he watched Robbie dig eagerly into his sandwich and juice.

This would probably be one of the most difficult cases he would ever be involved in. And he didn’t even have Lewis for backup this time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a rocky start for Morse as a surrogate father.

“So, he didn’t seem to have any memory from his adult life at all?”

“No, Sir. His first question was about his mother and father.”

Strange frowned. “I see. Well, what do you think we should do about him? He has to be tested for traces of the chemical and closely monitored.”

“Child services, Sir?”

“Morse…”

“I can’t take care of him!” Morse protested. “I’m not a father! Nor is it technically within my job description!”

“I don’t think you have a choice, Morse.” Strange replied. “Whether or not we can get child services to watch him, you will have to. And I hear he’s very attached to you.”

Morse sighed deeply. A part of him was really enjoying the chance to be a parent he’d been denied once upon a time, but the other part of him was more logical, and told him rightly that he was not a fit caretaker. He said as much to Strange.

“Fine. We’ll see if child services can’t do anything about him.” Strange picked up the phone. “Meanwhile, keep trying. Maybe his memories will return in time.”

____________________________________________________________

The squeaking of the chair was really getting on Morse’s nerves. What he wouldn’t give for the child to just be occupied. Where the hell was child services, anyway?

“I’m tired,” whined the child Morse couldn’t quite equate to his patient, clever sergeant. “I’m bored. I wanna go home.”

Morse ignores him, goes back to his crossword.

The squeaking of the chair stops. Bad sign. Morse looks up to see the child has shrunk, head bowed, staring at his hands clutching the side of the chair.

“What’s wrong, Robbie?” He asks, fighting to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Morse is not a patient man.

Silence.

Morse thinks a minute. What is it that children like to do? “Do you want to go outside and play?”

Robbie shakes his head. “I want me mum.” His voice is trembly.

Morse sighs. Perhaps the time for the truth is now. “Your mother…can’t come.”

“I want me da, then.”

“Your father can’t come, either.”

“Why?” Gray eyes bright with tears look at him in alarm. The small body is shaking hard. 

Damn it all, Morse doesn’t want him to cry! But…what is the solution to this? How can he help? Morse doesn’t know very much about children, though he’s tried to understand.

At Morse’s silence, Robbie starts crying. The sound in the quiet pierces Morse’s heart and digs deeper than the saddest piece of music he can think of. His instincts tell him one thing, and one thing only: Pick him up.

Morse stands and gathers the tiny body in his arms. Robbie digs his face into the shoulder of Morse’s jacket, tiny but strong arms hold onto his neck. The child cries hard.

“Shh,” Morse says gently, rubbing Robbie’s back. “Shh, it’s all right.” He sits down in his chair again, gently rocking, thinking about how adult tears were different from the tears of children. When adults cry, they are ashamed of it; they don’t want help, they only want to hide. Children cry because it is the only thing they have the power to do.

Robbie isn’t much younger than he was when he lost his mum.

“You’re not alone, Robbie,” Morse says, and makes a promise both to himself and to Robbie. “I’m here. I’ll take care of you. Shh.”

Robbie sits back just an inch from Morse’s chest, scrubbing at his eyes again. “Why can’t me parents come?”

“It’s complicated,” Morse says truthfully. “We don’t know ourselves.” A half truth. Morse knows both of Lewis’ parents are dead.

“I’m scared.” Robbie looks up at him. Morse feels that painful stabbing again.

“I know,” he says gently, running a hand through the child’s hair. “But I promise, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Do you believe that?”

Robbie nods. “Aye.”

“Good.” Morse smiles kindly. “It’s going to be all right. You’re safe here.”

Robbie nods, smiling. He looks at Morse’s desk. “What’s that?”

“It’s a crossword puzzle.” 

“Can I see?”

Morse nods and Robbie drags the paper towards him. “It’s all done!” He says in amazement.

“I finished it just now.”

“That was so fast!” Robbie’s eyes are wide. Morse has to laugh.

“It’s not my best time; I’ve been faster before.”

“Wow!”

Maybe this was what children were really for: to boost one’s ego.

A knock on his door. Morse calls out, “Enter!”

One of the constables pokes his head in. “Sir, the woman from child services is here.”

“No!” Robbie protests, flinging aside the newspaper and clinging to Morse. “No!” He gives Morse a look of betrayal that the older man can’t bear. “No! You said you’d protect me! You said!”

Morse frowns thoughtfully. Interesting. A boy of six wouldn’t know what “child services” meant. Obviously, Robbie had picked up on the constable’s tone of voice, and looked to the familiar adult in the room for answers and protection.

“Morse!” Robbie’s voice in his ear brings him back to the moment.

“Let’s just go and say hi to the nice lady, hmm? Is that okay?” He asks the child.

Robbie, still apprehensive, nods, clinging tightly to Morse’s lapels. 

Morse lifts the child up as he stands. “Come on. Up you get.” He settles Robbie on his hip, something he’d picked up from watching Lewis, and nods to the constable, ignoring the snickering as he passes through the station.

The child services woman is friendly-looking and very attractive. If Morse didn’t have a fussy child to deal with, he might be more in the mood to ask her out for a drink. He could certainly use one after today.   
“Detective Chief Inspector Morse?” The lady asks. Pretty voice, too. She’d make a good soprano, Morse thinks.

“Yes.” Morse settles Robbie more firmly on his hip.

“I’m Clara Newton. Your superintendent explained the issue on the phone.”

“You realize this is a very sensitive matter.”

“Don’t worry. We have strict confidentiality policies.” She smiles at Robbie. “Is this him?”

“Yes. Why don’t you say hello, Robbie?”

“Hello.” Robbie hides in Morse’s shoulder.

“Hi, Robbie, I’m Clara,” Ms. Newton says, leaning in closer. Morse can smell the rose perfume she has on. “Would you like to come with me?”

“No.” Robbie shakes his head.

“We’ll be going to a lovely place with lots of other children your age, and a big back garden for you to play in! Would you like that?”

“No!”

Morse’s arms are getting tired. “Robbie,” he says patiently, “would you like to at least go and visit?”

“You said I could stay with you!” Robbie protests stubbornly. “I want to stay with you!”

“Brat,” mutters Morse under his breath. Soon after, there is a sharp pain in his shoulder. “Ow!” He glares at Robbie, who is lying sullenly against him. “If you’re going to bite me, I’m going to put you down!” He sets the child down at his feet. Robbie clings to his pant leg.

“It seems as if he’d rather stay with you, Chief Inspector.” Ms. Newton says kindly.

“I don’t have children of my own. I don’t know how to care for a child.” Morse says with some gruffness.

“It seems as if you promised him he could stay with you.” Ms. Newton points out neutrally.

Morse glances down. Robbie is hiding a smug smirk with his fist. Cheeky little brat. He sighs. “Yes, I did promise him. He was crying. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Ms. Newton smiles warmly. “I know how that can be.” She bends down towards Robbie. “Robbie, the chief inspector can’t take you home with him. He can look after you during the day. Is that okay?”

“Want Morse.” Robbie says sadly. “Me mum and dad can’t come. I want Morse.”

Ms. Newton looked up at Morse apologetically. “I’m sorry, chief inspector. We’re not in the habit of separating families without cause.”

Morse sighs. “All right. Thank you for trying, my dear. Come along, Robbie.” He held out his hand and the child took it, toddling after him back towards his office.

On the one hand, it was nice to be thought of as part of a family. It had been a long time since Morse had felt included in such a way.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morse's first night as a surrogate dad.

“Up?” Had been Robbie’s first request upon returning to the office. Morse had noticed the child seemed to shrink into his hip at the commotion in the station. So many people brushing past at once must have been overwhelming to a young child.

Morse couldn’t very well deny him, so he lifted the child up with a grunt. “My, you’re heavy,” he commented. Robbie giggled, snuggling into Morse’s lapels. Morse smiled fondly despite himself; he’d never considered himself a worthy parent, but he could not deny that there were instincts rising in him that could potentially make him a good enough surrogate until a cure was found for his sergeant. The inspector knew Lewis kept some little busy-toys in his desk. Either they were gifts from his children, or relics of his own past, but whatever they were, he was thankful for them now. He took out a small toy car and gave it to Robbie. The child clasped onto it immediately, smiling.

“I’m hungry,” Robbie said as Morse sat at his desk. 

“I’ve told someone to bring food for you.” As well as clothing to be sent to his house; he didn’t know everything, but he knew common sense. And he could very well be embarrassed about the ordeal later; Robbie was counting on him.

Morse went to put Robbie down, but the child resisted, clinging hard to Morse’s suit. “I have to work,” Morse sighed.

“I’ll be good!” Robbie protested.

“All right, I’ll give you a trial run.”

Morse let Robbie sit in his lap as he worked. It was mostly the Inspector’s version of make-work; filling out forms and signing approvals for leave, and so on. Robbie obediently left Morse to work, running the toy car over the surface of the desk currently not occupied by paperwork. When a WPC came with soup from the canteen, Morse addressed the child in his lap. 

“You have to eat over there, all right?” He pointed to Lewis’ desk. “That’s the rule. You can come sit with me again when you’re done.”

“Okay!” Robbie said brightly, sliding off of Morse’s lap and heading over to Lewis’ desk. The child scrambled up into the chair, thanked the WPC, and started eating. Morse took the opportunity to turn on his radio; he worked faster when there was music to listen to.

After a few minutes, Morse felt a tug at his sleeve. Robbie was standing before him, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Morse noticed for the first time that the lost-and-found clothes quickly put together for him didn’t really suit the weather. It was still cold in the night, though the station was fairly temperate. Morse smiled at him, sitting back in his chair. “Do you want to come back to my lap?”

“Yes, please,” Robbie nodded, yawning.

“All right, come here,” Morse pulled the child closer and lifted him up onto his lap. He was almost finished, just a few more minutes and they could both go home. Robbie yawned again, resting against Morse’s chest, but he fell silent.

Morse finished up the last form and looked down to check on the child. Robbie was fast asleep, curled awkwardly into Morse’s chest, thumb in his mouth. The other hand was fisted in Morse’s shirt. 

The position could not have been comfortable, but the position was too awkward for Morse to pick him up like this, not to mention how a sleepy child would fare in the jag. The inspector turned off the radio and pulled his jacket from over the back of his chair, settling it automatically over Robbie’s sleeping form. The child sighed innocently in sleep, a soft sound that made Morse’s breath catch. 

“Well,” Morse said to himself quietly, “it isn’t the first time I’ve fallen asleep at my desk. This is, however, the first time it’s been your fault.” He ran a hand through Robbie’s soft hair, watching it slide easily through his fingers. It felt light and airy, like what he sometimes imagined clouds would feel like. Robbie obviously liked it; he nuzzled happily into Morse’s chest in response. The old man noted absently that the child could probably hear his heartbeat from where he lay; steady, safe, familiar. That made Morse smile, and for once, he let himself do it. 

Resigning himself to his fate, stiff neck and back be damned, Morse tilted his chair back and, arms crossed protectively over Robbie’s sleeping form in his lap, he stared up at the ceiling, thinking, until he, too, fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of many responsibilities.

Sunshine woke Morse, and it was certainly not a welcome consciousness. As predicted, his neck and back were both stiff, and he was fairly certain his knees were cramped. Even an old injury in his hip was acting up. Damn. Already, Morse was not in the best of moods, and dealing with a child of six of all things today was less than the doctor ordered.

Still…

Morse looked at his lap, the child’s weight warm and secure. At some point in the night, Robbie had shifted to clutching Morse’s jacket and had pulled it up to his chin. He looked so sweet and innocent…Morse didn’t want to rouse him, cramped legs be damned! He wondered if that was how parents could go sleepless with a newborn and not commit infanticide; besides the instincts, there was the added benefit of cuteness.

Morse was shaken from his thoughts by seeing Strange come charging through the station towards his office. The last thing he wanted was his superior’s bellowing waking the child. Before Strange could even knock, Morse ushered him in. Strange opened and closed the door quietly, taking stock in the situation. He couldn’t help smiling; Morse had a reputation for being a thunderstorm, downright irritable and damned difficult. It was a nice change to see him coddling a sleeping child. It made Strange’s anger abate somewhat.

“How is he, matey?” The CS asked in a soft tone, leaning carefully on Lewis’ desk. 

Morse tilted his head; a shrug. “Like a child his age. A bit bratty; well, you heard. But no ill effects from the chemical.” His voice was soft, gentle, and though it carried well did not hold much volume. The inspector gently ran a hand through Robbie’s hair before asking, “Have there been any developments?”

Strange rolled his shoulders. “I’ve arranged for you to take him to hospital later today. They’re going to run some tests, and hopefully give us a diagnosis.”

Morse sighed. Robbie wouldn’t like that, but it was necessary to return to normalcy. “When, Sir?”

“About ten or so, give or take. If the lad’s still sleeping, no one will blame you for lateness.”

Morse checked his watch; seven. He nodded at Strange. “He should probably have fresh clothes.” 

“I have Darrings on it. He’ll bring them in to you when he gets here.”

A file cabinet was violently closed in the next office over, making Morse jump, looking at the child instinctively, but Robbie slept on. “Tell them to be quiet, will you?” Morse said irritably. “The least they could do is to be considerate of a sleeping child!”

Strange smiled. “I’ll see what I can do. Meantime, did you finish those reports I asked you to do?”

Morse gathered the papers on his desk and handed them obligingly to Strange. The CS then saw himself out, and Morse leaned back in his chair with a sigh. 

“What am I going to do with you, Robbie?” He said quietly, letting some of the exhaustion and frustration creep into his voice. Like any addict, he was beginning to itch for a pint. Maybe while Robbie was at hospital, he could sneak away and down one quickly, be back before the child missed him. That thought, he decided, was going to get him through the morning. 

Ten minutes passed, and Robbie began to stir. Morse shook off his own ill feelings and managed a smile. “Good morning. Sleep well?”

Robbie nodded, rubbing his eyes. To Morse’s interest, he seemed somewhat guilty about it, and for a moment, Morse wondered if the child had access to Lewis’ memories. Doing what they did, it did not make for pleasant dreams. “I slept on you…” Robbie said, frowning.

“Well, yes,” Morse said simply.

Robbie looked away. “Me mum and dad don’t let me do that anymore…say I’m too big.”

“I think you’re plenty little still,” Morse replied easily, smiling. “I can’t really fault you for being tired; I should’ve noticed and taken you home.”

Robbie leaned against Morse’s chest again, yawning. “Is today going to be as boring as yesterday?”

Morse snorted despite himself. “Well, hopefully not. I have to take you in to get a checkup today. Is that all right?”

“No boosters?” Robbie asked, looking up at Morse warily. 

“Not that I’m aware.” Morse could sympathize; getting a booster was one of his worst memories as a kid. 

“Okay! That’s fine, then.” Robbie swung his feet, gently knocking into Morse’s calves.

“You’ll be able to eat breakfast soon,” Morse went on. “I hear you’re getting a change of clothes as well.” And Darrings had better of had enough sense to plan for the weather, or Morse would personally put him in hot water.

“Goodie!” Robbie said excitedly, bouncing a little and straining Morse’s hip. “Will I get to see Beary, too?”

Morse guessed that Robbie referred to a toy of some sort. “No, we couldn’t fetch him from your house. If you’re good, maybe I’ll get you a replacement.” He wondered if he could write that off as an expense: “toy for child sergeant.”

“S’okay, I don’t mind too much.” Robbie looked at his hands and then up at Morse, wonder bright in his eyes. “You’re being really nice.”

“I hope so! I have to make an effort to do so!” Morse joked. Robbie giggled; the sound was like music. 

“But why? You were making a fuss at the worker lady yesterday.” Robbie looked sad a moment. “You tried to go back on a promise.”

Damn. That hadn’t been his proudest moment. Morse didn’t even know what to say first. “Robbie, you were crying, and it broke my heart,” he said gently, lifting the child so he was facing him. “I didn’t want you to feel alone or scared. I’m a policeman; my job is to help and protect others.” He smiled gently. “But…I don’t have kids of my own, so I was worried that I couldn’t do what you needed me to do. That’s why I said those things. All right?”

Robbie sniffled. “N-not because you hate me?”

Morse secretly felt appalled. “No, Robbie. I don’t hate you.”

Robbie smiled shyly. “Okay. Cause…cause I wasn’t very good…I’m sorry I bit you.”

“That’s all right. We just had to get used to each other.” Morse ruffled Robbie’s hair playfully. “Right?”

Robbie laughed, pitching forward against Morse’s shoulder. “Aye!”

“Good lad.” Morse stretched; he could use a chance to freshen up. There was still time to stop off home before he had to take the lad to the hospital, and he could have a well-deserved beer then. “Listen. I’d like to go to my house for a while. Do you want to come with me?”

Robbie nodded eagerly.

“All right.” Morse set Robbie down and slipped into his jacket before lifting Robbie up again. “Let’s go.”

He told himself he was carrying Robbie just because it was easier to transport the shy child. It totally wasn’t because he was starting to like the warm feeling he got when Robbie snuggled into his shoulder.

No, it definitely wasn’t that.


End file.
